


Fatherless Wonder

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mischievous Children, Romance, Sifki Week 2019, and well meaning friends, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: Loki is locked up in Asgard's dungeons and Sif is not. This complicates things, such as having nice words (or any words) to say to each other, and parenting. Thankfully they're not the only two parties in this romance, or they would never find a happily ever after.For Sifki Week 2019.





	1. Confession

_You’ve been summoned._

No question who the note was from: it was in Loki’s hand, and he would find it humorous to summon the crown prince from prison. 

Thor looked up to meet Sif’s eyes, dark and glittering. It had been months since he last saw her; these days she was gone from the palace more often than she was present. Moments ago she had been laughing with him over the antics of Tony Stark, but now she was silent and still, her face impassive. Thor treasured the laughing moments, for there were too many solemn ones since Loki… Since Loki. Loki was Thor’s brother, and he was Sif’s something, which meant while the rest of Asgard rejoiced at Loki’s imprisonment, Sif and Thor sat together to hold vigil and weep.

It had been eight, nine months since the events at Stark Tower. Though Thor had been to visit his brother, Loki had yet to speak a word to Thor. What could he want now?

Without a word, Thor pushed back from the table and swept from the room. 

Loki was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, hair perfectly coiffed, his trademark sneer firmly in place. Thor was torn between the desire to break into the cell and smack his brother around, and the desire to weep with pity for what his brother had become. 

As usual, he did neither.

Loki thrived on being in control of a situation, so Thor let him pretend he was as Thor sat on the steps outside the cell. “You hailed, brother?” he asked. Loki’s sneer morphed into a self-satisfied smile as he turned his head to face Thor. 

“So glad you come running when I call,” Loki said. Thor didn’t reply, staring evenly at his brother. Always one for the dramatics, it was best to let Loki have his say before getting to the point. It took less time than arguing with him. 

Thor waited for the inevitable diatribe, but Loki offered no further word. The quiet humming of the force field and the murmur of other prisoners talking to themselves were the only sounds to break the silence. Unusual. Loki loved the sound of his own voice, and never passed up an opportunity to fill a room with his prattling. What was his game?

The minutes passed slowly by, Loki on his bed, Thor on the steps outside the cell. It was almost peaceful, so unlike any interaction the two brothers had ever had that Thor couldn’t help but relish the moment. What he wouldn’t give for more moments like this.

“Sif visited,” Loki said suddenly, interrupting the quiet. He still hadn’t looked at Thor. What secret did those eyes hold?

“She has visited multiple times,” Thor said, “and you always rebuff her presence. You two haven’t shared a word since your incarceration.”

“Yes, of course you would know,” Loki said, his sneer suddenly back. “She shares everything with you.”

“She doesn’t share with me why she visits you,” Thor said. “She also won’t share with me her tears.” Not that he knew for certain Sif shed any. She was remarkably stoic, though she felt deeply. It was easier to pry truth from Loki’s lips than to get Sif to share her feelings, for Loki happily hand-delivered honesty, just gift wrapped in multiple layers of lies. When Sif didn’t want to discuss a subject, she changed it. If the listener wasn’t amenable to her change, she punched him until he was. 

Thor shifted his jaw, remembering a time or two when he hadn’t been pleased with her evasion of a subject. 

“She cries?” Loki asked, so softly Thor almost missed it.

“I just told you I don’t know.”

Silence again, though this one lasted only a moment. “Sif visited,” Loki repeated. “Last week.”

“I see,” Thor said, voice carefully neutral. Sif had been here last week and hadn’t seem him? He wasn’t sure if he should let Loki know that. He might get a big head. “She visits often. What was so special about this time?”

“I listened.”

Thor sat up straight. This was different. Loki never made a habit of listening, especially if he thought he’d been wronged, and to hear it from him, his entire capture and imprisonment was a long, elaborate tale of him being wronged. 

“She confessed her sins, but wasn’t interested in absolution.”

Wordplay. Not Thor’s strength. He preferred the direct approach, which left little room for misinterpretation. “Say what you have to say, brother, without twisting it to lose all meaning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Thor stood up. “Then I will leave. I’m not interested in playing your game.”

He didn’t make it very far before Loki’s voice called him back. “She brought a baby.”

Thor pulled up short, pivoting midstride to return to his brother’s cell. He wished the dungeons had bars like the prisons on Midgard so he could grab them and haul himself as close as possible to his brother. “What?” he demanded. 

Still Loki did not turn. “She brought a baby. Or a toddler. Small children and their ages are difficult to determine. Said he was mine, that I should get an eyeful while I could because I would never see him again. She thought I deserved to know, to see him once, before being cut off forever. Life imprisonment, after all, isn’t conducive to fatherhood. I wanted to say that abandoning an infant, or stealing an infant, isn’t conducive to fatherhood, but I don’t think she was interested in my family issues.”

A baby. That’s what was keeping Sif away from the palace?

No, not just a baby. _Loki’s_ baby. When did that happen? _How_ did that happen? No, he knew how that happened. But _Loki_? “What, were you a one-night stand?” Thor asked before he could think better of it and school his tongue.

Loki reacted, standing up and striding angrily to Thor’s position to bang his hands on the force field. Loki’s arms flew violently backward, the accompanying sparks matching the ones in his eyes. “Is it so difficult to believe she might find me desirable?” Loki hissed. “Or do you, like the whole of Asgard, consider Sif destined to be your wife, so she would be an utter fool to look twice at the bastard prince of Jotunheim?”

“Neither!” Thor shouted back. “I know you both--have known you both my whole life! I’ve never seen any indication that you were sweet on her or that she fancied you. My disbelief comes because I’ve only ever seen you snipe at each other, seen you insult her and her retaliate with a solid punch to the gut. Therefore, to my reasoning, this could only happen because you were both so drunk you didn’t notice what you were doing!”

“Says the man who couldn’t tell I was a Jotun,” Loki said coldly.

His words hit harder than a punch from Volstagg. Thor hadn’t noticed anything unusual about his brother, hadn’t seen any indication that Loki was more than he seemed. It was not such a stretch, then, to imagine Loki had a rich love life Thor knew nothing of. 

But Sif?

“What are you going to do?” Thor asked.

Loki stepped back with a biting laugh, opening his arms wide. “In my gilded cage?” He turned around once, meeting Thor’s eye before dropping his arm. “Even if I could offer her the world, do you think she would accept it?” His tone answered his own question.

A baby. Technically, that made Thor an uncle. It also made Odin a grandfather, Frigga a grandmother--so why had Sif kept this knowledge to herself? Did she not want her baby to have a family? 

Or was it Loki who did not want them involved?

No, that couldn’t be. Loki was trapped in a prison cell, and knew nothing of the child before last week. Sif would not care for his opinion. 

Thor looked back at Loki, his brother staring off into the distance, a slight frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Of all the things Loki could have done with this knowledge, he chose to call Thor and share it with him. Why? Loki performed no act that did not serve his self-interest, so why share the news with his brother? Hesitantly, Thor asked. “Are you...are you asking me to look after them?”

Loki whirled around, eyes flashing. “Yes, I am calling upon the brother I despise, toward whom I’ve felt nothing but envy and disinterest, to care for the woman I love and the child we forged out of that love. The oaf I did not trust with the seat of Asgard, the babbling buffoon I masterfully trapped on earth, the lumbering idiot I battled for conquest of an inconsequential Midgardian town--yes, I’ve called you here to do my duty as father.”

This was the problem with talking to Loki--his words and tone were offering mixed messages. Was he trying to insult Thor into doing as asked, or was he insulting Thor because he didn’t want him anywhere near Sif’s child? 

For once, Thor did not care. He had no desire to understand Loki, nor play into his brother’s hands. Loki was trapped in this cell for a reason, and Thor was not going to give him the pleasure of making requests or demands. And since he so desperately wanted to piss Loki off, Thor delivered his words in as jovial a tone as he could manage. “It doesn’t particularly matter what you want,” he said. “I’ll discuss the matter with Sif, and do as she says. After all, I get the pleasure of seeing her whenever I desire.”

Foolish words, regretted almost as soon as spoken, for while Thor enjoyed good banter during battle, it was beneath him to so belittle his brother. Loki, though by his own choices, had nothing, and Thor should be a better man than to dangle Sif, apparently Loki’s beloved, in his own face. 

“Your taunts have improved, brother,” Loki said, his voice butter smooth. He should have been angry; what was he playing at now? “I see I’ve taught you well after all.”

An insult, calculated to reduce Thor to Loki’s level. Worse, he deserved it. And yet, Thor did not wish to apologize. Small and petty though he may have been, Loki deserved it. 

“Why am I here, Loki?” Thor demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I told you, I--”

“And keep your snide comments to yourself, or I will leave.”

Loki held Thor’s eye defiantly for nearly a minute before dropping his head. His whole body sagged, a picture of exhaustion. 

“Take care of her,” Loki mumbled.

“What?” Thor asked, cleaning out his ear. 

Loki faced him head on. “Take care of her. I know she doesn’t need it, but do it anyway. And watch out for my son. Don’t. . . Don’t let him grow up to be like me. In fact, tell him he’s a fatherless wonder.”

Thor pressed his lips together to hold back the verbal emotions Loki would not want, but could not stop tears from gathering in his eyes. Loki did call him here to pass on duty as father, and Thor was overwhelmed. 

Ever thoughtful, Loki rolled his eyes and said, “Were this barrier not between us, I’d stab you for your womanly tears.”

Were this barrier not present, Loki would have no need to stab Thor as he would not need to pass on his paternal duties. But there was no need to rub salt in Loki’s wound. 

Today, anyway. 

“On my honour,” Thor said, clasping his fist to his heart and bowing his head. When he looked up, Loki had returned to his bed, eyes closed. There is good in you yet, brother, Thor thought as he left the cell and rounded the corner.

To his surprise, Sif was crouched there, head sideways on her knees, tears dripping off the edge of her nose. Her wet eyes met his, dark and glittering. He reached out, touching her shoulder. She didn’t move, but an understanding passed between them, and Thor went on his way. 

Yes, there was good in Loki, but was it enough?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sifki Week Prompt #2: Scars. I completely ignored this one. :D

What looked like several pounds of paper dropped in front of Fandral.

All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet before meeting Sif in the training yard and having his rear end handed to him again. On any normal day, he and the shieldmaiden were evenly matched, but she’d been rampaging of late, and Fandral was starting to fear the next set of bruises to be bestowed upon him. 

Why she didn’t take these emotions out on Thor, Volstagg, or Hogun, Fandral didn't know, but he was beginning to resent his friends.

Of course, whatever burr was under her saddle no doubt had to do with the tiny creature standing before him. 

“I have a theory,” Ullr announced, shifting to the side so he could see Fandral around the pile of papers. 

Fandral poked at the stack. It didn’t shift. “What is this?”

“My theory,” Ullr dutifully responded.

Fandral poked at the top of the stack, where the papers were easier to move. “No, I mean what _is_ this antiquated form of communication? Surely you’ve heard of a holo pad.”

Sliding onto the bench, Ullr nodded. “I am in possession of several, but I’ve found tossing one onto the table isn’t nearly as satisfying as depositing several reams of paper. They make a much more satisfying _thunk_ and better portray the depth of my research.”

Flipping through the top sheets, Fandral noticed they were all blank. “Metaphorical only, then?” he asked. 

Ullr nodded again. “Actual research and accompanying notations are securely housed in several different locations, just in case Mother should find one and conveniently destroy it. But like I said, I prefer the thunking noise of paper.”

“Where did you get this much?’ Fandral asked. “It’s so neat and orderly and... _white_.”

“Jane collected it for me,” Ullr said. “Being Midgardian, she has better access to unnecessary paper. I put in an order and she promptly delivered.”

Ah, Jane Foster, Thor’s little Midgardian. They all thought she’d be a fling, a passing fancy, but the prince went and married her. Odin had been chewing nails for years over it, though he smiled politely at the wedding and even made a gracious toast. Personally, Fandral always thought Thor would marry Sif eventually, once the two of them realized no one else out there could ever measure up. Technically that was still a possibility, though they’d have to wait decades for Jane to grow old and die, and then decades more for Thor to stop mourning. 

Of course, all this was assuming Sif was over Ullr’s father, whoever that was. Fandral had his suspicions, but he knew better than to voice them. Sif got feisty when her romantic choices were questioned, and more than one Einherjar had made his way to Eir’s office with a missing tongue.

“A theory,” Fandral said, stroking his beard in his best imitation of a scholar. “Tell me, little Sifling, what sort of obscure theorizing brings you to old Fandral’s table? Are you best deciding how to woo a maiden? Postulating how to grow the manliest beard? --Though I am forced to admit, Volstagg grows a mighty fine beard, and you’d be better off pestering him.”

“I think I know who my father is.”

Leaping to his feet, Fandral bowed extravagantly and said, “Have a good day, Son of Sif. I’m off to pursue adventures that don’t involve my head being removed from my body.” Though considering sparring with Sif was his next activity, Fandral was fairly certain he had just lied to the child.

Ullr, pesky little gnat, followed Fandral. “I’ve noticed everyone is terrified of my mother,” he said, half running to keep up with Fandral’s stride, “but only in regards to my father. I find it odd that even the crown prince steps lightly about her. Shouldn’t he, having all power, not fear Mother?”

“Odin has all power,” Fandral corrected, “and even he knows to steer clear of Sif when the subject of your father arises.”

“Yes, I’ve questioned him on the matter,” Ullr said, which brought Fandral up short. 

“ _You_ questioned the _Allfather_?” 

“Annoyed him, more like, but he didn’t strike me down, so I consider it a smashing success.”

Moments like this gave rise to the question of whether or not Sif seduced the universe’s biggest idiot and passed on all of his genes to her child. No wonder she was so touchy on the subject. “Odin save us all,” Fandral prayed, looking up to the ceiling.

Ullr scampered in front of Fandral, blocking his path. Fandral could, of course, step over the bitty thing, but the longer he spent entertaining the brat, the less time he would have for Sif to give him a beating. And she always looked favorably upon her friends spending time with her child. 

“Are you going to listen to me or not?” Ullr demanded. 

“Why can’t you play warfare with Volstagg’s children?” Fandral asked. “Be normal. Stab someone.”

A knife flashed in Ullr’s hand, pressing against Fandral’s thigh. If he ever doubted Ullr’s parentage, this just confirmed he was Sif’s. “Fine, fine, I’ll listen,” Fandral said, swiftly removing the knife and pocketing it. Ullr didn’t look surprised, merely smirking. Fandral couldn’t help but feel he was being played by a twelve-year-old. “Tell me your theories, child,” he said, grabbing Ullr and swinging him up onto his shoulders. 

“I’m not a child, Fandral,” Ullr said patiently. “I can walk.”

“Scrawny kid like you?” Fandral asked, moving toward the gardens where Ullr’s research was less likely to be overheard. “I’m afraid your toothpick legs will break. Got to keep your mum out of Eir’s office, which makes this a service to Aesir-kind.” Ullr kicked Fandral in the chest, proving that even toothpick legs could give damage. Fandral grunted but kept going; Sif had given him worse. 

Once secured in Fandral’s favorite garden spot for an afternoon tryst--due entirely to the privacy afforded by the tall hedges and perfect distance from any garden entrance--he set Ullr Sifson down and sprawled on the grass. “Tell me, Tiny One, all you’ve collected about your father.”

Ullr seated himself and adjusted his invisible spectacles. Fandral grinned; Sif must be properly horrified to know she was raising a warrior-scholar hybrid. 

“I’ve been pondering upon this for years,” Ullr said, “ever since I was old enough to understand what it meant when Mother and Thor called me a Fatherless Wonder.” A nickname that only strengthened Fandral’s conviction that he knew who said father was. “I’ve been analyzing friendship patterns, casually dropped hints, and everything I can glean about Mother’s history before I was born.”

“An excess of work for someone who never bothered to meet you.”

“I have a theory about that, as well,” Ullr said, “but we’ll get to it in a bit.” He produced a holopad and opened holo versions of the Warriors Three and Thor. Striking fellows, the lot of them, though that devilishly handsome fellow with the rakish good looks and smashing goatee outshone even the crown prince. “Given Mother’s interactions, these are the most likely candidates,” Ullr continued, and Fandral hid a smile in his beard. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that none of Ullr’s candidates were his father. At least this exercise wouldn’t incite Sif’s wrath too much, as Ullr wasn’t even close to figuring it out. 

“Let’s start with genetics,” Ullr said, “specifically phenotype. My most notable features are my dark hair and pale skin as they stick out in Aesir society. Obviously these traits link me to Mother, but if they’re attributes of my father, that makes Hogun the closest match. Though I don’t have a hint of the Vanir slanted eyes, at least he has dark hair.”

Producing a holopad of his own, Fandral started taking notes. He could not wait to laugh it out with the boys over a good mug of mead.

“I don’t have red hair like Volstagg, but as that’s a recessive gene, it’s not too surprising. I doubt I’m related to either you or Thor, because your blonde influences would most likely, though not most definitely, result in a lightening of my hair color. Chins are hard to compare due to the beards sported by the lot of you, but since I don’t have a cleft, that doesn’t matter much anyway.”

Loki would have enjoyed this deep and somewhat ridiculous analysis. Fandral paused in his notetaking, letting a moment of mourning and regret pass over him. Having fond feelings for the imprisoned silvertongued prince was an unpopular opinion these days, but Fandral had always enjoyed the second prince’s company. Traitor or not, sometimes he missed his old friend. 

Shaking his head, he listened to Ullr’s disappointment that he couldn’t properly compare jawlines or height, as he was too young to have grown into either. 

“I’ve put in to have a full genetic makeup run on all of you, but it’s proving rather difficult to get approval when one of my subjects is the crown prince and the other three are his closest friends, but I’m not giving up yet. I’ll sweet talk the geneticists yet.”

Maybe Ullr was his kid after all, Fandral thought with amusement. “Beware the pretty one,” Fandral advised. “You’d think she’d be most amenable to sweet talking, but your mother is the only woman I know with a tougher right hook than her.”

“Noted,” Ullr said, adding a note to his holopad. “Though as I am unusually small for my age, so I’m sure I could simply bat my blue eyes at her and convince her with a childlike grin.”

“So proud,” Fandral said, miming wiping a tear from his eye. He was rewarded with a sly grin.

“Of course, genotype and phenotype are not my only points of comparison,” Ullr said, zooming his holo in on Hogun. “There are interests as well. Being Asgardian, obviously I have an affinity for weapons, though I favor knives over the sword. Mother assures me that’s because I’m small yet, but I prefer the sneak attack possibilities. 

“Volstagg couldn’t sneak to save his life and you much prefer to announce your presence. Thor said it’s dishonorable to sneak attack unless facing an evil opponent, but Hogun told me sometimes sneaking is the only way to ensure victory. That’s another point in his favor. He’s also the only one of the Three who doesn’t favor the sword. However, you enjoy a good parley while attacking, and I like to disarm my enemy with words rather than weapons, since my current size precludes a victory of strength.

“You’re also the skinniest member of the group, which I suppose belongs in the genetics column, but is still a point in your favor.”

“I’m not skinny, I’m svelte,” Fandral said, flexing his muscles. “The ladies prefer it.”

“The ladies prefer Thor, but he can’t see anything other than Jane,” Ullr pointed out. “Which is good, I suppose, for while Asgardian morals are lax, I think Jane would murder anyone who tried to seduce her husband. For a mortal, she’s surprisingly feisty.” 

“I think your mother would disagree about Asgardians being lax in love,” Fandral said, remembering Lorelei. 

“Would she? She didn’t exactly marry my father.”

“But you don’t have a father, little Fatherless Wonder.”

Ullr rolled his eyes. “To continue, in addition to my weapon prowess--”

“Mediocre at best,” Fandral coughed. Ullr rolled his eyes again.

“I’m twelve. I’m not supposed to be proficient yet.”

“Says the kid comparing phenotypes and genotypes.”

“I refuse to apologize for being intelligent. You could benefit from reading a book once in a while, you know.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” Fandral asked, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know Thor is the dumbest of the lot!”

“False. Thor obtained a royal education, which makes him smarter than all of you. He’s just very good at hiding it.”

Who was this kid? He was far too observant by far. Thor went out of his way to cultivate an image of stupidity, for when your enemies thought you stupid, they underestimated you. The Three and Sif were sworn to help uphold that image, which they did so willingly as it had helped them out of more than one sticky situation. Not to mention it was fun to pick on him. 

“Which brings me to my next point,” Ullr continued. “In addition to weapons _training_ , I also enjoy scholarly pursuits. That takes you and Volstagg out of the running, but gives another point for Thor and Hogun. Thor, as just said, is smarter than your average warrior, and Hogun likes to spend his evenings with a book when he’s not getting drunk with his friends.”

“Have you given Volstagg any points?” Fandral asked. 

“He is lowest on the list due to being wholly devoted to his wife and with a brood of younglings mothered by her,” Ullr said. “But I cannot count him out just because on the surface he doesn’t fit the profile. If Mother took a married lover, of course she’d have to claim I was a fatherless wonder.”

“So the only thing going for Volstagg is that it would account for your illegitimacy.”

“Mostly.” 

“Interesting,” Fandral said, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “Are you done yet?”

“No. Now we must take into account proximity. Mother spends more time with Thor than anyone, giving them adequate time to find a corner and tryst.”

“How do you know the word _tryst_?”

Ullr gave him a look. “I’ve known you my whole life.”

Hmm. Point. Fandral ought to consider his influence on the lives of the young and impressionable--being wonderful and necessary, that is, and Ullr should consider himself blessed to know such a man as Fandral. No other role model could eclipse Fandral’s influence! Really, Sif ought to have him over more to watch her child, assuming she actually wanted Ullr to grow up successful, charming, and handsome. 

“No thank you, I’m old enough to watch myself,” Ullr said, correctly interpreting Fandral's thoughts.

Fandral peered at the child through narrowed eyes. “Have you become a mind reader, Sifson?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Ullr shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m lucky I’m a fatherless wonder, else my papa would strap me for my smart mouth.”

Fandral was surprised Sif didn’t do it. Maybe she was getting soft in her motherly years.

Remembering her fierceness in recent sparring sessions, Fandral winced and absently rubbed at his right arm. There was nothing soft about Sif.

Oblivious to Fandral’s musings, Ullr was detailing why Volstagg, who spent all his free time with his wife, didn’t have the time to impregnate his friend. Fandral winced again; someone should teach this child respect. Someone like Hogun, the most respectful of the Three. Certainly not Fandral. “--Hogun’s on Vanaheim more and more these days, but he used to be here all the time, particularly around the time of my conception. And if I can’t find Mother but I know she's not with Thor, then she’s almost guaranteed to be with you. She says you’re always good for a laugh, and she needs lots of external help in that regard.”

That was true. Ever since Ullr had been born, Sif had been too serious by half. She always had a smile for her son, but if he wasn’t in sight, there was little levity to be found in her space. 

He ought to do something about that. Perhaps Fandral’s next mission should be to partner with Ullr and force or prank Sif into laughter. He’d need to write up a will first, in case things went poorly, but it was a project worth taking on.

“Ullr,” Fandral said, cutting off the child’s explanation that Fandral had the motive (womanizer) and the means (too much time spent with Sif--he’d have to have a talk with the kid over that one) to father Ullr. “Have you ever considered that you are a miraculous birth?”

Sudden laughter poured from the child’s mouth. “Oh, Fandral,” he said through giggles. “I knew you weren’t bright, but I didn’t think you were _stupid_.” 

Well, how was that for a day’s work--getting insulted by a kid who couldn’t even lift his own sword. Fandral reached over and flicked Ullr’s forehead. “That’s enough out of you, gossipmonger.” 

“This isn’t gossip,” Ullr said, smacking Fandral’s hand away, “it’s speculation. And anyway, I’m about to announce my conclusion.”

“Do tell!” Fandral hooted, wondering which of his friends were about to be proclaimed Sif’s former lover. 

“After a detailed analysis of the aforementioned items, and careful observation of each of your characters, it’s quite obvious who my father is.” Ullr tapped his knees in what could only be a sad imitation of a drumroll. “I am the son of Loki, son of Odin.”

Had Fandral been drinking anything, he surely would have spit it out at such a ridiculous proclamation. _Loki_? Traitorous son of Odin? Betrayer of Asgard? Erstwhile friend of Sif and the Warriors Three, rotting away in a jail cell below the palace? He of poor judgment who decided sending the Destroyer after his brother and friends, one of whom was _Sif_ , the selfsame lady Ullr was trying to link with said man of poor judgment, was a good idea? _That_ Loki?

And yet...

“Odin’s beard, it makes so much sense,” Fandral breathed. “They were always together, snickering and joking, sparring and studying. It’s said there’s a fine line between love and hate, and it would explain her loss of joviality, and you are the palest little annoying scholar… By Odin and Thor…”

“As I thought,” Ullr said, sounding quite satisfied with himself. “I’ve got his coloring and interests, and as you so kindly pointed out, he had ample opportunity to do the deed.” Again, Fandral thought this infant needed a lesson in respect. He’d have to get on that. Some day. “And the reason he’s not around is he’s quite incapable of being so, as he is imprisoned. It was Grandmother Frigga who first gave me the idea, linking her mournful smile over her imprisoned son with her fond annoyance at my impertinence. It planted a seed, and I’ve been studying out the issue ever since.”

Of course the Allmother planted a seed. That woman knew everything, and a hint from her was as good as a guarantee from any man. She had a grandson--a _grandson_ , and from _Loki_ , no less--and she no doubt wanted Ullr to know.

Did Loki know?

Did he deserve to know?

Was it any of Fandral’s business?

Probably not, but that had never stopped him before. 

Leaping to his feet, Fandral said, “I am late for an appointment, little Sifson--” _Lokison_. By the Norns “--and must be off. Farewell.”

Without waiting for a response, Fandral rushed off to the sparring yards in search of Sif. 

*

At the training grounds, Fandral found an impatient Sif slowly sharpening her sword, a sure indication that her mood was not on the upper side of pleasant. Usually enough to make him tread lightly, today Fandral didn’t care. Approaching his friend of centuries, he grabbed her upper arms and hauled her up and away from prying ears. Unprepared for the attack, Sif was caught off guard and didn’t put up much of a fight until they were several dozen meters away from the training yard. Ducking inside a corridor, Fandral shoved Sif against the wall. “LOKI?!” he shouted, dropping his arms. “ _Loki_ is Ullr’s father?”

Sif's eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous, but for once Fandral didn’t feel any fear. “What misinformation are you spewing?” she demanded.

“I thought it was Haldor!” Fandral said. “Fatherless Wonder, indeed. After the Lorelei debacle, of course you’d be ashamed to bear his child. It made sense!”

“Fandral,” Sif said, sounding very much as if she thought him a lummox, “Haldor is dead and has been for centuries.”

Fandral waved his hand dismissively. “Loki’s died multiple times, yet still he rots in the dungeon. Who’s to say Haldor isn’t out there somewhere, walking the Realms, ashamed to return home thanks to Lorelei?”

“You find that more plausible than Loki being my lover?”

“Yes!”

“This is why we told no one. Why endure the mockery of friends when we could just enjoy one another?”

“Enjoy that little pipsqueak? All you two ever did was bicker and argue!”

“Thor said much the same when he found out.” She paused, realizing something. “How did you figure this out, Fandral?”

Fandral scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Ullr told me. Worked it out himself, and wanted to share the joy of his discovery, possibly get confirmation.”

Sif frowned, though fondness softened her eyes. “That boy is too clever by half,” she murmured. “He takes after his father that way.”

If Fandral didn’t miss his mark, he’d say Loki’s years languishing in prison had done little to dampen the flame of her passion. She was still _fond_ of the fallen prince. “Odin’s beard, Sif. You’re still in love with the blighter!”

Her eyes flashed again as she brought her hands up and gripped his biceps. In the blink of an eye she slammed him against the wall, effectively switching places. “What I do or do not feel,” she said softly, “is of no concern to anyone-- _anyone_ \--but me. And that includes my overly concerned friends.” The glint in her eyes left no doubt that Loki was also included in that list.

“But does it concern Ullr?” Fandral asked. 

She drew back, the corners of her mouth turned down. “That is between him and me.” 

And Fandral, Thor, Frigga, Odin, Loki, and anyone else who had a vested interest. One of the downsides of living in the palace was the lack of privacy. On the other hand, the lack of privacy was precisely was made living in the palace so interesting. 

Scooting out from under Sif’s grip, Fandral saluted as he backed down the hallway. “As you say, my lady,” he said, offering her a bow. Sif glowered at him.

“Fandral,” she said, warning in her voice. 

“My lady,” he repeated, scurrying backward faster. Sif took a step forward. 

“ _Fandral,_ ” she growled, starting to sprint.

“Shieldmaiden!” he shouted over his shoulder as he pivoted and also started to run. 

“FANDRAL!”

If she caught him, he might die. But then, he might make it to the dungeons first, and wouldn’t that be a scene for the ages. Fandral grinned. He hadn’t felt this much excitement in years. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sifki Week Prompt 3: Powerless

Loki blinked and a child appeared. 

It was unexpected, to say the least. Sif stopped by every once in a while to stare quietly at him, never saying a word. Thor arrived every third week of the month, boisterously discussing nothing of value while assuming it demonstrated his great love of Loki. Mother came often, always ready to discuss any aspect of sorcery Loki wished to pontificate upon. But none of them ever came with a child, and certainly not with one who looked so…

Like him.

“Hello, Father,” the child said. Fascinating. So Sif had told their son who his father was after all. Loki didn’t think she would, after she made it abundantly clear Loki was never to know the child. 

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked, genuinely curious as he moved to sit in front of the child.

“I sent Fandral to distract Mother so she wouldn’t find me down here. She doesn’t think I know who you are, but she underestimates my ability to ferret out her secrets.”

Loki smiled; he liked the child already. “It won’t be well for you should she find out,” he told his son. The child shrugged. 

“I don’t think it will be well for her when I finally admit I know about you. What sort of mother hides who her son’s father is?”

“The kind who thinks her child’s father is a, how did she put it? Ah, yes. ‘A monster in the night undeserving of the love bestowed upon him.’ ” The child’s eyes went wide, and Loki smirked. “Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the sharp side of her tongue?”

“No, we are acquainted,” the child said. “I’m your son, after all, and I inherited your gift for words.” Ah. That would not serve him well, not with Sif, at any rate. But at least Sif hadn’t escaped the glib machinations of a wordsmith’s art. That pleased Loki immensely. 

“Have you a name, child?”

The kid’s eyebrows went up. “Mother visits you several times a year, yet you don’t know my name? Is she ashamed of my existence?”

“She’s ashamed of mine,” Loki replied. “Why do you think you didn’t know who I was? If she doesn’t claim me, she can pretend she didn’t birth the spawn of a monster universally despised.”

“I don’t think she’s ashamed,” the child said thoughtfully. “She still lives here, after all. My guess is she wanted to shield me from derision, for if my lineage was known, I’d undoubtedly have a tomato lobbed my way on a daily basis. Of course,” he confided, “I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ve researched several recipes using tomatoes, and I’m confident I could make a delicious sauce out of other people’s derision.”

What a delightful creature! Even without Loki in his life, he was turning out perfect. Perhaps nature was a stronger force than nurture (especially if Loki was anything to go by).

“I am Loki,” Loki said.

“Ullr,” the child replied. “Thusfar Ullr Sifson, but I like the sound of Ullr Lokison, too.”

“Sifson will grant you greater respect.”

“But Lokison will annoy more people.”

Loki grinned again, pleased with his son. “Tell me, does Thor interact with you?”

“Regularly,” Ullr said. “In fact, Mother says if anything happens to her, I am to go straight to Thor, as Volstagg has too many children to tend, Hogun is often off-Realm, and Fandral can’t be trusted to walk in a straight line, let alone rear a devious child. Thor is teaching me the sword.”

Eyeing his scrawny brat, Loki raised a brow. “And how do you find the sword?”

“Can’t lift it yet,” Ullr said honestly. “I prefer knives and insulting people, which I’ve been told are tactics you employ.”

Oh, Sif must love this, Loki thought in delight. So determined to keep her son from his wicked father, yet she was raising an exact replica. “And how do you find magic?”

“Hard,” Ullr said, “but Allmother Frigga tells me if I work at it, it can be a great asset in battle.”

“It’s also excellent for pranking people,” Loki said, casting an illusion that made him appear as Sif. “All the battle-minded idiots populating Asgard never plan for it. After all, why misdirect when you could hit?”

Ullr’s eyes went wide, and he leaned in close. “Mother…?” he whispered, reaching out to touch Loki, only to be stopped by the barrier. 

“Now, now, my love, you shouldn’t play with bad men. They might accidentally train you to use your mind,” Loki said in perfect imitation of the shieldmaiden. 

Ullr fell back in giggles. “Do it again,” he demanded, wide grin plastered on his face. “Make her say something about being in love with Fandral!”

“That delicious hunk of sweaty man meat?” Loki asked, affecting a swoon. “What I wouldn’t give to be his nightly conquest! I’d feel blessedly loved until he awoke in the morning and remembered he preferred stabbing people to commitment.” Ullr howled with laughter. To Loki’s surprise, warmth spread across his chest, emanating from somewhere inside. His heart, perhaps? He thought he’d eradicated that decades ago, but seeing pure joy on the face of his son reminded him that he hadn’t quite been successful. 

Being imprisoned didn’t make for a glorious life, but even before incarceration, Loki had chiseled away at his heart, bit by bit, and let it guide his actions. He spurned affection from his family, looked for insult and injury, and gave better than he got. Rotting in a cell for the last decade had given him ample time to reexamine his choices, and while he would never admit to regretting any of them, knowing he had a child running free, and child who was half Sif, made him question his future. Not his actual future, as he doubted Odin Allfather would ever let him out of his cell, but the future path he’d been on before being caught. 

World domination had seemed like child’s play, given how weak most mortals were. It would have been child’s play, too, had Midgard not started amassing superheros. After world domination, Realm-domination and the ruination of Asgard had been his objective, though he never got to see it through thanks to Thor’s mortal cronies. 

His first year of imprisonment had been bitter with too much time spent dwelling on what could have and should have been, but all of that changed when Sif told him she had a baby. His baby. Suddenly it wasn’t about taking over Asgard and proving to the universe that he was worthy, it was about being a better father than Odin. Somewhat difficult, of course, as he was encapsulated by four magic-dampening walls, so he did the best he could by ordering Thor to make sure Ullr grew up better than Loki. 

Judging by the ease with which Ullr was laughing, it looked to have been a success. 

“Can you imitate everyone, Father?” Ullr asked eagerly. 

“Everyone I know,” Loki replied. “Careful observation of an individual’s quirks make it simple to imitate them, and so few people take care to hide their quirks.”

“I shall endeavour to be a better observer,” Ullr said firmly. “I shall also study harder at magic. It seems quite useful.”

Loki smiled. At least Sif hadn’t done him the disservice of raising their son to be a wool-headed warrior.

A sound down the corridor stole both their attention, and Ullr suddenly stood. “I must go before I’m noticed missing.” He paused a moment, then looked at Loki with solemn eyes. “I should like to visit you again, Father, if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, Loki was reminded of how inferior he felt next to Thor when standing before Odin for review. His son would never feel that, not from Loki. Even so, he couldn’t be too serious. “If I’m not out vacationing, I will grant you an audience.” 

Ullr blinked, then grinned. “You’re funny,” he said. “Nobody ever said that.”

Again, that unfamiliar but pleasant warmth was in his chest. Loki smiled as Ullr took off running.

*

Not ten minutes after Ullr’s departure, Loki had two unexpected guests: Lady Sif and one of the Idiots Three. They appeared to be fighting over who would arrive first, judging from the amount of fist swinging and uttered curses. 

“The truth will be known!” Fandral shouted just before Sif’s fist smarted across his mouth. Most entertaining.

“I hereby declare Volstagg the winner,” Loki drawled, “as he is not stupid enough to venture into the dungeons.”

Both parties froze, heads whipping around to stare at Loki. Fandral’s mouth and nose were bleeding, and Sif sported a lovely blackened eye. 

Carefully placing a marker in the book he was reading, Loki set the tome aside and sat upright on his bed. Steepling his fingers, he peered at his two visitors, looking disheveled but hopelessly entangled. Perhaps Ullr’s request about Fandral and Sif held more merit than Loki gave it. This displeased him. Of course Sif shouldn’t sit around waiting on him, as he was likely to die of old age in this dungeon, but to court Fandral? She had better taste than that. 

(A tiny voice in the back of his mind shouted that yes, she should wait for him, for how could she possibly do better? but he was wise enough to keep that to himself.)

The two very quickly sorted themselves out, straightening hair and clothes. Sif stood stiffly next to Fandral, while Fandral lounged as if at an afternoon party. 

“May I help you?” Loki asked.

Fandral spoke first. “Sif here is--” but before he could complete his sentence, Sif plugged his nose with one hand and covered his mouth with the other until he was struggling to breathe. 

“Keep your peace or I’ll make this permanent,” Sif threatened, only releasing Fandral when his face was sufficiently purple and his arm pounding on her shoulder. 

“By the Allfather,” Fandral gasped, struggling to get in enough air. Loki thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. “You could kill a man that way, Sif.”

She snorted, making such an unpleasant noise almost sound musical. “Hardly.” Glancing at Loki, she peered about his cage, undoubtedly looking for some sign of their son. “Anything...out of the ordinary happen?” she asked casually. Loki had to press his lips together to keep off the grin.

“This delightful little fight between you and our ridiculous friend,” he said, perfectly honest. “Most entertainment I’ve had in years.”

“You could have so much more--” Fandral started, but once again Sif interrupted. 

“I will break your jaw,” she threatened. 

“Jaws heal,” Fandral told her, clearly not caring. 

“Pardon us,” she said to Loki, and the two were gone, arguing. 

It was always pleasant to witness an ant being stepped on by Sif, but it was less enjoyable when he couldn’t discern the relationship between the two. If she chose to move on, that was her business, but Loki had no desire to witness it. He resented their intrusion.

But at least he had met his son, even if he was powerless to do anything for or with Ullr. Seeing Ullr was the greatest thing that had happened to Loki since Sif brought him as a baby, and Loki was going to treasure this day for a long time to come. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, turns out I paid no attention which day was which prompt and totally skipped time travel (a crying shame, because that is one of my top 3 favorite tropes of all time), so my prompts are off. Oh well. At least I'm posting something!
> 
> Today's prompt: soulmates. And this chapter kind of is...if you squint...... real hard........ :D

From that day on, things changed.

For over a decade, Loki spent most of every day alone. His visitors were infrequent, and when they did come, they didn’t stay for long. Frigga, his most consistent guest, never stayed more than an hour. The Allmother was busy, after all, and didn’t want to anger the Allfather more than she had to. Visiting Loki at all was more than one of her position should be doing. 

The rest of the time he was completely alone. 

Now, however, Sif stood guard every spare moment she had, and she had far more spare moments than she should. She never spoke and didn’t even look at Loki, showing him only her back, but she was there. Constantly. And for a purpose, it seemed, for every day Fandral attempted to sneak into the dungeon, and every day got rebuffed by Sif. They must have similar duties at the moment, because Fandral never attempted entrance when Sif wasn’t around. 

That, or he was just a moron. 

Given Loki’s suspicions that Fandral and Sif had struck up a romance, he was surprised at Sif’s vigilance in keeping him away from Loki’s cell. If anything, shouldn’t she arrive with banners flapping, announcing that Loki had been replaced, and with such a subpar specimen? 

It made little sense.

And to his surprise, Loki actually missed his solitude. 

If Sif spoke to him, that would be an entirely different story, but her constant presence yet persistent silence unnerved Loki. Even with her back to him, he felt judged, as if everything he did was inadequate. Lying on his bed in the middle of the day? How lazy. Reading? Of course he wouldn’t keep up his physique. Training? What was the point? He wasn’t ever getting out of here. Loki could feel the judgment oozing out of her ever-silent back. 

Thor was the first visitor to witness Sif’s vigil (she managed to never be around when Frigga came). “Is everything all right?” Thor asked as he approached Loki’s cell, eyes darting back and forth between the two dark-haired Asgardians. (Dark hair. Loki should have known there was something different about him; there was no way the genetic gods would bless him and Sif with a shared trait, especially since she’d been born with shining golden locks, only acquiring dark tresses after Loki’s childhood prank.) 

“Ask her,” Loki said, not taking his eyes off his current book. “She hasn’t so much as looked at me.”

“Thor,” Sif said, the first word uttered in Loki’s presence since her vigil started. It was like water in the desert.

“What is going on?” Thor asked, concerned. “Anything I should be aware of?

“Just exterminating vermin,” Sif said lightly.

Thor carefully looked back at Loki, no doubt checking for damage. “For once I am not the vermin,” Loki said dryly. Holding his book aside, he gestured down his body. “Intact.” Without a word, Sif strode off, leaving a baffled Thor in her wake. “I do not know,” Loki said, heading off any questions. 

After a moment Thor shook his head, then proceeded with his visit as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He stayed for half an hour, and within minutes of his departure, Sif returned, again keeping silent watch. 

In the days since Sif arrived, Loki had not seen hide nor hair of his son. Apparently Ullr was serious about not letting Sif know he had visited Loki. Loki could see the wisdom in it, as he was sure Sif would have Ullr banned from the dungeon the moment she suspected he knew who was down here, but he found he missed his son. They’d only interacted the once, and Loki was hungry for more. Yet with Sif ever present, there was little likelihood of Ullr returning. 

After seven months of Sif’s and Frandral’s game, Loki decided to open his mouth. Perhaps if he was annoying enough, Sif would take it into her mind to leave on her own, allowing an opportunity for Ullr to once again sneak in. 

“You and your new lover have a strange courtship,” Loki said by way of greeting as Sif once again took up her post. She said nothing, but stiffened. Excellent. “I always suspected I was the center of your world, and it is so nice to have confirmation.” Her shoulders hitched ever so slightly, and Loki grinned. He did love getting under her skin. “Now, in celebration of your newfound love, let me list the many virtues of Fandral.”

And he did.

For six hours.

Honestly, Loki didn’t know he knew that much about the pale-haired Warrior, but one he opened the floodgates, every interaction he and Fandral had shared over the centuries came pouring out. Unexpectedly, the longer he talked, the more Loki remembered just how much he had once liked the man. Out of all Thor’s friends, Fandral was the most genial and the most welcoming. In fact, Loki dared to say he missed the man, and wished Sif would go away so Fandral could stop by.

At this, he ceased his endless prattle and sat on his bed, staring at his knees. 

“Is that it?” He was surprised to hear Sif’s voice after so long, but lacked the heart to look at her.

“For now,” he said, flopping backwards and rolling over so she could not see his face and accidentally infer that he was lonely.

He did not notice when she left.

The next time Sif came, she did not turn her back on Loki, facing him instead. It was the loveliest sight, and he sat on the floor in a meditative pose with eyes open to appreciate the art before him. He forgot all about trying to run her off. 

Sif stood there for some time before speaking. “Fandral is not my lover.” Loki raised both brows.

“For someone you do not bed, you are very determined to keep him from…” he trailed off, using his eyebrows and a flick of his fingers to indicate himself.

She scowled. “That’s because he _is_ my friend.”

Loki did not know what that meant, and he very much wanted to. Unfortunately, Sif seemed to have said all she came to say, and so turned around once again and kept watch.

Never one to be deterred, Loki started a recitation of Thor’s feats in as monotone a voice as he could manage. He knew she was annoyed by the way she kept shifting, but he persisted until she stormed off in a huff. 

It was several days before she returned. 

Ullr hadn’t made a repeat appearance, Fandral had not attempted to stick his nose into Loki’s jail cell, and it was several days yet before Frigga or Thor were to return, and Loki was bored. Over a decade of solitude, yet several months of constant company rendered him lonely. How irritating. He wished desperately to return to a state of indifference, yet Loki couldn’t quite eradicate that pesky hope for visitors. 

When Sif finally came back, Fandral was hanging off one arm. Or more accurately, was being dragged by one arm. Loki narrowed his eyes. 

“Fandral wishes to speak with you,” Sif announced in a tone of voice that said he was an idiot for wanting to do so, and that if he misspoke at all he’d be short one tongue. Despite having been dragged to Loki’s cell, Fandral did not seem afraid of Sif’s implied threat.

“Loki, my friend!” Fandral said cheerfully. “How are you this fine day?”

“I see your conversation skills have not improved in the years since we last spoke,” Loki said. 

“Good, good. Always happy to hear our prison is a comfortable place to stay.” Sif cuffed him upside the head, just hard enough to make Loki question whether it was a joke or a threat. “Ow,” Fandral said, rubbing his head. “What was that for?”

“Two minutes,” Sif said in reply. 

“Don’t rush me. A man needs to work up to important questions, not drop them like watermelon seeds.”

Sif rolled her eyes and took a step away. Loki was very confused. “Why are you here?” he asked Fandral. “Finally delivering whatever message Sif so clearly wants you to keep to yourself?”

“No,” Fandral said. “ _We_ decided” and by the way he said we, obviously Sif was the one holding the reins “that my comment was trivial at best. Instead I’m here to inquire after your well being for Ullr. He keeps asking about you, see, and mummy dearest here won’t let him visit this hive of scum and villainy.”

So, Ullr’s knowledge of Loki had been discovered, though not his visit. “Tell him this monster in the night is still on vacation.” Simultaneously, Fandral and Sif tilted their heads in confusion, which amused Loki. “And do be a dear and toss a large, ripe tomato at him for me.”

“A symbol of your derision?” Sif asked coldly.

Loki shrugged. “Someone must get him started.” She looked hurt by his comment, but Loki paid her little mind. If she was going to keep his son away, she didn’t deserve to understand their communication. 

Fandral offered a quick salute before leaving with Sif; it was unclear if the action was sincere or mocking. 

Just as their bootsteps hit the stairs, Fandral yelled back, “Sif is still in love with you!” followed by the clear sound of a head smacking against stone. It sounded like a scuffle broke out, but the noises quickly disappeared up the stairs. 

Loki stared after his guests, not quite sure he believed what he’d heard. Was Fandral egging him on? It would not be unheard of, coming from him, but why wait so long to make such a false accusation? Was that why Sif had been standing guard for weeks on end, to prevent Fandral from having his fun? 

Could his words possibly be true?

With regards to Sif, for the first time in years, Loki found within himself a little nugget of hope. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Family ties.

When Mother first started guarding Father’s cell, Ullr knew for certain his cover was blown. She’d discovered his visit to the dungeon and was making sure Ullr never saw his father again. It was grossly unfair; it’s not like Ullr did the illegal thing, so why was he being punished? And if she was so upset about it, why didn’t she talk to him about it? Mother always said open communication was the savior of relationships, and he felt cheated. 

But as the weeks passed and Mother kept going back to Father’s, it occurred to Ullr that she didn’t know. She knew Ullr knew about Loki, because Fandral couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, but she didn’t know about the visit. 

So why was she spending so much time with Father?

Was it possible she was having romantic encounters?

Ullr got really excited about that. 

Rushing to the great hall, Ullr found Fandral finishing up his midday meal. He was, of course, surrounded by ladies of the court. They were all laughing, but it wasn’t the laugh of the happy, it was the laugh of someone who wanted something from you. Ullr didn’t understand why Fandral put up with it. Why tryst with a maiden who didn’t want you, only wanted something from you? But Ullr was afraid to bring it up just in case Fandral realized Ullr was a genius, and started courting the only woman Ullr knew who wanted nothing from Fandral. That would be a problem, because that woman was Ullr’s mother, and the only man he wanted Mother to look at twice was the one sitting in jail. 

Squeezing in between some bosomy ladies, Ullr tugged on Fandral’s sleeve. “I need to talk to you,” he said. 

Fandral patted him on the head, which was very condescending. How old did Ullr need to be before grownups stopped treating him like a baby? Or maybe it wasn’t about being old, it was about being big. In that case, Ullr was in for a lifetime of babying because he just couldn’t make his legs grow. “Not now, little Sifling. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“With what?” Ullr asked. “Reveling in insincerity? Because I have something actually important to talk about.”

One of the ladies tapped Ullr on the head. “We are important,” she said coquettishly. Ullr wished he could curse her with ants in her bed, but he was still working on that side of magic. It wasn’t nearly as easy as Father and Grandmother Frigga claimed.

“What could possibly be so important?” Fandral asked. 

Ullr tried to give the man a significant look, but either Fandral was dense or Ullr lacked proper control of his facial muscles, so he had to resort to words. “It’s related to being a Fatherless Wonder.”

“Go talk to your mother about it.”

“But I want to talk _about_ Mother!”

Another lady ruffled Ullr’s hand, which he peevishly shoved off his head. “Don’t waste your time, dearie,” she said. “Your mummy wouldn’t be a good match for our love muffin here.”

Ullr couldn’t stop himself from gagging, which only made everybody laugh, so he put his hands on his hips and in his most superior voice said, “Of course not. She has actual taste.”

Fandral flicked him on the forehead. “Your mother would be lucky to have me. Of course, I’d be lucky to have her. Hmm, perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

Ullr _knew_ Fandral was joking, but this conversation was going in the exact wrong way that he couldn’t help but panic. “Absolutely not!” he shouted. “Not you no never ever never no!”

“That’s a ringing endorsement for fatherhood,” Fandral said, draining his cup and standing up. “Excuse me ladies, but it seems little Sifling and I have some business to attend to.” The ladies dispersed as Fandral prodded Ullr out of the great hall and into a deserted corridor, where Fandral dropped to the floor, leaning comfortably against the wall. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

“You aren’t going to go after Mother?” Ullr demanded.

“Peace, Ullr, I was making fun. I love your mother dearly, and she me, but we would never suit. Friendship is the end of the line for both of us, and we’re both satisfied with it. At least, I am. These days I think she would rather string me up and roast me like a pig, but all things considered, it’s the best I could hope for.”

“What?”

Fandral waved his hand. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little mind over. Now tell me what’s distressing you.”

“I’m not distressed,” Ullr said. “I just have a theory.”

“Not again,” Fandral groaned.

“Yes, again,” Ullr retorted. “And I might ask Mother, but I can’t ever seen to find her.” A small lie; he would never ask Mother because she was touchy about the subject of Father, but Fandral didn’t need to know that. “Is Mother back in love with Father?”

Fandral looked like he’d just walked in on his parents trysting as he hurried to ask in a strangled voice, “Why would you think that?”

“Because she’s always with him. She spends hours outside of Father’s cell, and I can’t think of a single reason other than trying to romance him.”

Fandral shook his head. “Oh, kid, if only that were the case. But tell me, how do you know where she is?”

“I’ve followed her.” Half true; Ullr did follow her, but mostly he was trying to sneak in to see Father without getting caught.

“Believe me, child,” Fandral said, “I wish she was romancing Loki. It would make so many things easier. But she’s not; she’s standing guard to keep me out.”

Ullr felt so monumentally disappointed that all he could do was sink to the floor and lay his head on his knees. Mother was very good at being stoic. If her only purpose was to guard Father from Fandral, Ullr had no doubt she would not utter so much as one word. So much for that theory.

Fandral poked him in the side. “Things aren’t as bleak as they seem,” he said. “Sif could be inserting sharp things into Loki’s person, and she isn’t, so at least she isn’t mad. And standing guard does mean they’re spending hours upon hours together. Even if they're silent, proximity means something.”

“It means she’s his jailer,” Ullr said morosely. “Mother doesn’t befriend the imprisoned.”

“Not usually, no, but in this case they’re already friends.”

If only that was enough.

Ullr redoubled his efforts in magic training with Grandmother Frigga. He was determined to learn how to cast an illusion that would draw Mother away from Father’s cell long enough for Ullr to get a visit in, and that required skill he didn’t have yet. He even abandoned weapons training in favor of focusing on this skill. Mother surely wouldn’t have approved, but as she was in the dungeon so often, she had no idea. 

Several months into perfecting his illusion, Thor stopped by his room for a visit. Ullr had always liked Thor with his happy laughter and oafish actions, and he liked him even more since discovering he was Ullr’s uncle. Ullr wasn’t sure if Thor knew, but Ullr liked to pretend he did. It was known far and wide that Thor still loved his estranged brother, so Ullr liked to be a happy connection to Loki. He wanted Thor to remember good times when he looked at Ullr, not see the disappointing offspring of a disappointing brother, which is why he dropped the illusion when Thor walked in and ran to grab his abandoned knives for training practice. 

“An assignment from the Allmother?” Thor asked, staring at where Ullr used to be standing. He looked the tiniest bit wistful.

“Sort of,” Ullr said. “Sorry I haven’t been to practice in a while. I’ve been busy.”

“Loki used to say that,” Thor said, his smile said. His eyes suddenly sharpened and he turned to look at Ullr. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” Ullr asked innocently.

“About Loki.”

“There’s an entire unit in school about his betrayal. Of course I know who he is.”

“But you know who he really is.”

“Your brother?”

“Your father.”

“Oh, yeah. I figured that out ages ago.”

The smile on Thor’s face was blinding. “Nephew,” he said affectionately, enveloping Ullr in a hug. 

“Uncle,” Ullr said, melting into the hug. 

Thor held on longer than Ullr expected, but he wasn’t about to put a stop to it. Mother had given Ullr just about everything he needed in life, but she couldn’t give him a father’s hug, and though Thor may not be his father, but he was the next best thing. Better still, Ullr could tell Thor actually liked Loki. It was nice to hug someone who liked his father.

Eventually Thor pulled back, but kept his hands on Ullr’s shoulders. “We thought about telling you, but Sif said no, that it was better this way.”

“Better for who?”

“For whom, Fatherless Wonder.” Thor paused, and gave a small chuckle. “Though I guess you’re fatherless no more.”

“You can still call me that,” Ullr said. “I kind of like it.”

“Me, too, Fatherless Wonder.”

They shared a grin, then Ullr asked again, “Better for whom, Uncle Thor?”

Thor sighed. “Better for Loki. If you didn’t know, you couldn’t miss him. If no one else knew, then he couldn’t accidentally get news of you. Loki might deserve to be where he is, but Sif and I agree that he doesn’t deserve to suffer over you more than he has to.”

Ullr went quiet, thinking over Uncle Thor’s words. If Mother didn’t want Father to suffer, did that mean she still cared about him? Or was she just a good person? 

But there was something wrong with what Thor said. Yes, Father could’ve accidentally heard about Ullr, but why would that matter? As far as Father knew, Ullr would just be some person, one of many. Why would hearing about him in particular bother Father? Unless… “Does Father know about me?” Obviously he knew now, as Ullr had met him, but Thor didn’t know that. And Ullr hadn’t thought anything of it, but his father hadn’t so much as blinked an eye at meeting his son. He must have known. 

“Of course. Sif told him not too long after he was imprisoned.”

That was sad. Father had spent Ullr’s whole life knowing he was alive but couldn’t see him. How must he feel now that Ullr had promised to visit, but couldn’t make it back?

Tapping his chin with the knives he was still holding, Ullr asked, “Can I see my father?” If anyone could get past Mother guarding a prisoner, it was the crown prince.

“Hah, that’s not going to happen,” Thor said without hesitation.

Ullr dropped his knives. “Why not?” he demanded.

“Twofold, Fatherless Wonder. First, I’m not going to increase my brother’s suffering by dangling you in front of him. He talks to me now. Sort of. He at least doesn’t insult me when I visit, which is the best we’ve gotten along in centuries. If anyone introduces you to him, it will be someone else he can yell at when you don’t stop by often enough. Two: your mother.”

Father and Thor didn’t get along? That wasn’t part of the history books. He’d have to ask Father about it next time he managed to sneak down. As for Mother...yes, Ullr understood that one. “Fine, I get it,” he said, scuffing one toe against the floor and hanging his head. He peeked up through his hair to see if Thor’s was moved by his adorable posture, but Thor was hiding a laugh behind his hand. Ullr dropped the cute boy act and rolled his eyes. “That would have worked on Fandral,” he said. 

“Probably not,” Thor laughed. 

“Volstagg?”

“With his brood of kids? Not likely. Hogun might fall for it. Maybe. Now pick those knives back up; we’ve got training to do.”

*

Despite Ullr’s best efforts, getting in to see his father was not happening. Mother appeared to have moved into the dungeon and was there more often than she was home. Without Thor on his side, Ullr didn’t know what to do, and his magic learning was slow going. He was going to be an old man before he could magic his way in to see Father. 

A few more months went by, and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. With no explanation, Mother was home again, pestering Ullr about his lapsed training and demanding he split his time between magic and weapons. It was suspicious. Why spent so much time guarding Father, and then suddenly stop?

Ullr kept his eyes open for a week, but the only difference he noticed besides Mother being around was Fandral not being present. Had they had a falling out?

Fandral said no, but his broken arm said otherwise. “Just a sparring tiff,” he assured Ullr, who didn’t believe him.

“He fell down the stairs,” Mother said when asked. 

“How?” Ullr asked.

“I pushed him.” 

Ullr stepped extra lightly around Mother after that. 

A week after that, Fandral stopped by during breakfast, his arm healed now, to deliver a message. With perfect aim, he lobbed a fat tomato at Ullr. As juice dripped down his face, Ullr asked what that was for. “It’s an inappropriate message from your father,” Mother answered, annoyed. 

“He also said he’s still on vacation, should you ask,” Fandral said. 

Ullr grinned; Father remembered. 

“Why are you grinning?” Mother asked suspiciously. 

“I have to go make sauce,” Ullr answered, gathering up what tomato bits he could and running for the dungeon. 

Father was lying on his bed, eyes closed. Ullr threw a bit of tomato, watching it sizzle out of existence as it hit the barrier. “Father!” he shouted. “I’m covered in derision!”

Father sat up, a smile stretching his lips. “I see you got my message.”

“Delivered from Fandral, of all people, in front of Mother. It was glorious! I told them I had to make sauce and now they think I’m a bit mad!”

Father laughed. “Oh, you are a delight,” he said. “Sif must be so proud.”

“I’m sorry, Father, that it took so long to come back. Mother--”

“I know,” Father interrupted. “ _I_ would think twice about getting in the way of Sif and her duty; I certainly wouldn’t expect my little Fatherless Wonder to go up against her.”

Ullr’s eyes widened. “How do you know my nickname?” he whispered.

“Who do you think came up with the term?”

Suddenly it wasn’t just a great nickname, it was the best title the Realm had to offer. All his life, though he hadn’t known it, Ullr had been carrying the name bequeathed to him by his father. Half the palace even called him Fatherless Wonder as the name was endorsed by both Mother and Thor. Perhaps he could petition the Allfather to make it a legitimate title. If Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun could be the Warriors Three, then surely Ullr could forever be known as Fatherless Wonder. 

“It’s the best thing you’ve ever given me,” he said reverently.

“Besides life, it is the only thing I’ve ever given you,” Father replied. 

“I love it,” Ullr said fervently.

Father appeared lost in thought for a moment before he said, “Tell me, Ullr, is Fandral prone to lying?”

“Fandral?” Ullr asked. “He makes a bit of mischief now and then, which is what makes him so fun. But lying? He always gets mad when I do it, so no.”

“Hmm,” Father said, smiling to himself. “If what he said is true, that would explain why Sif stopped coming…”

Ullr tilted his head in confusion. “Father?”

“Are you on my side, son?” Father asked suddenly.

“Always,” Ullr said. 

“Even if I’ve done something bad?”

“Obviously you did something bad, or you wouldn’t be down here,” Ullr pointed out, “and Mother wouldn’t be so unhappy with you. But yes, I’m on your side.”

“Then I have a job for you,” Father said. “Two jobs, actually, and I need you to agree to them before I share what they are.”

Ullr looked askance at Father. “Why?”

“Because that is loyalty, my son. If you agree after you hear my proposition, that is self-interest.”

“Mother warned me about your silver tongue,” Ullr said. “I think this is what she meant.”

“Oh, most assuredly,” Father agreed. “So? Are you in or are you out?”

“In,” Ullr said without thinking. 

Father smiled. “Excellent. First, I need you to put in a good word for me with your mother at every possible opportunity. If this is going to work, I need her thinking fondly of me, not advocating for a swift execution.”

“Yeeeeah, I might not be the best person to encourage her good will,” Ullr said. “I might have to earn her good will first. She’s annoyed that I’m spending more time with magic than with weapons. Something about it being a bad influence and a quick road to being a social outcast.”

“She said that?” 

“I interpreted her judgy eyebrows.”

Father laughed. “This is precisely why you’re the perfect person. You’re half me already, and quite literally, at that. She’ll see your magical prowess and be reminded of me anyway.”

It was a good point, and Ullr was eager to sing Father’s praises. However… “What is this for, anyway?” 

“My second request: bring me every book on Asgardian law you can find. I have a life sentence to appeal.”

“You can do that?” Ullr asked, awed. 

“Believe me, my sins are small compared to the destruction Odin has spread,” Father said wryly. “I just need to convince the rest of Asgard of that.”

“Really?” Ullr asked, eyes wide with excitement. “Are we going to appeal based on the fact that the Allfather is kind of terrible?”

“That’s the basic idea, but if we want to be successful, I need more support than just the Allmother and Thor.”

“How soon can you get out?” Ullr asked eagerly.

“Oh, it’ll be years yet, which is why we must start now.”

When Ullr left, he went straight for the library. It was a daunting place, a giant room full of books and scrolls, but for Father, entering that dusty domain was worth it. And it was easier than facing Mother. Convincing her that Father was a worthwhile being… That was a task that would take time. He might need help. Thor and Grandmother Frigga might need to be recruited, and Ullr was going to have to start interviewing Father’s old friends for stories of the great deeds he had done. And if convincing Mother would be hard, it was nothing compared to changing public opinion. But, as Uncle Thor always said, if a deed was worth doing, it was worth doing right. 

And this was worth doing right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Family Ties part 2

When Sif was a little girl, she picked up the sword and fell in love, declaring far and wide that nothing else would ever interpose on her love of war. Her parents were properly horrified at her choice and did everything they could to dissuade her from bringing dishonor on the family. Sif, never one for caring about the opinion of others, ignored them and trained until her hands bled. 

Without the support of her parents, she moved to the palace for training, where she met and befriended both princes. It was awe at first sight with Thor and antagonism at first word with Loki, and little changed over the early years. For a long time, Sif hoped being closely entwined with the princes would bring her approval from her parents, but they were too mortified at her chosen profession. It was Loki who finally convinced her that she didn’t need the approval of small-minded sycophants, just her own approval. When she accepted that, she also accepted Loki’s friendship for life.

A decade or so after attaining her shield, she fell in love with Haldor and discovered what it was like to love something more than the sword. He wasn’t ashamed of her choice, instead encouraging her continually by sparring with her and sending her on quests for glory. It was such a contrast to the lackluster love of her parents that she reveled in Haldor’s affection, wrapping it around her like a cloak. Consequently, it hurt that much more when Lorelei stole him and he died.

After that, Sif swore she would never love anything more than the sword again. There was too much pain down that path.

But then there was Loki. 

She didn’t intend to love him, not even a little, but Loki didn’t operate like so many others. He didn’t arrive with a bang and alter the entire course of her life. Instead, he was already there, so interwoven in her life that Sif noticed him no more than she noticed breathing. And much like one discovers how important breathing is when they’re deprived of oxygen, Sif discovered just how much she cared for Loki when he was dealt a crushing blow in battle, and for weeks it was uncertain if he would survive. The thought of him not being there hurt worse than any wound Sif had suffered previously, and she swore she would confess her feelings if he would just awaken. And when he did, she did. 

And so Sif once again experienced life loving someone more than her sword. 

It was beautiful, fulfilling, and private. As Loki said, you don’t share your treasures with the Realm, you keep them close to your heart and cherish them. And oh, how they cherished each other. 

Their relationship never officially ended, but instead just sort of stopped. Loki’s discontent was so subtle Sif didn’t notice it for years, until one day he attacked the Realm, took the throne, and had Thor banished. Fighting against him and his Destroyer was still Sif’s bitterest memory, one she tried not to dwell on. When he fell off the Rainbow Bridge, Sif’s heart fell with him and she didn’t know how she was going to survive. The downside about cherishing in private meant no one knew her heart hurt, so she had to grieve in private, as well as birth their son in private. 

Bearing Ullr was easier than expected. Loki’s Realm-wide upheaval caused so much damage that no one looked too closely at her, including her friends, and none noticed her long absence in the hills. Thor was so preoccupied with getting back to Midgard that he entirely missed her pregnancy. In the end, Volstagg was the only one who knew, and that mostly because Sif needed his wife’s assistance with labor. 

Ullr soothed much of the hurt Loki had caused. His tiny baby gurgles from a face so much like Loki’s reminded her of the good times, not the recent terrible times, and Sif was able to let go of much of her pain. Watching him grow was a joy, and calling him Fatherless Wonder was her gift to him from Loki, even if he never knew it.

Ullr was a handful. For someone who had never met Loki, he had certainly inherited his father’s personality quirks. It wasn’t long after Ullr learned to talk that he learned words had multiple meanings, and if Sif wanted to know what he meant, she had to carefully listen to his every word and make sure she correctly interpreted each one. It was exhausting work, mentally draining, and for the first time in her life she appreciated the mental effort Loki exerted when he was spellcasting and learning. 

Jane was a surprising help, especially once she and Thor started having children. It was good to have someone to talk to, to commiserate with, and to send Ullr to when he asked too many academic questions Sif couldn’t answer. In return, Jane sent her rowdy children Sif’s way when they needed a lesson in brawling. Thor, of course, could teach them the ways of the warrior, but he was often busy learning how to be the next Allfather. If there was one thing Loki had taught them all, it was that Thor had much to learn, and he was finally willing to learn it.

It wasn’t often, but occasionally Sif found a rare moment of peace and quiet between duties when Ullr was off with Thor’s children or one of her friends. Those were the times when she stole down to Loki’s cell. She wasn’t interested in apologies or excuses, so she never spoke, just looked. Looked at the man she wished she didn’t still love, looked at the man Loki had become, looked at the man Ullr could become if she ever stopped caring. 

And then when she returned to her quarters, she grabbed her son and held him extra close, trying to pass on all the love his father would have given him if he were free. Ullr, not understanding, complained as he tried to wiggle free, but she just held on tighter. 

The day Fandral announced Ullr knew who his father was, had in fact figured it out all on his own, Sif felt her hard-earned balance tip. Worse, it took Fandral mere moments to deduce she still had feelings for Loki, and her world felt upended as he raced off to inform Loki of this fact. 

Thankfully, Sif put a stop to that. 

Unfortunately, putting a stop to that meant keeping watch outside Loki’s cell for hours on end, day after day, week after week, month after month. Worth it, however, to keep her sly and nefarious friend from doing permanent damage. 

Loki was much changed. Instead of prattling on for hours on end, he mostly sat in silence, reading or casting illusions. The anger that had dominated his short reign and quick ruin was missing, as were the many barbs he used to throw out about Thor. He looked more like the man he should have been, would have been had he dealt with his feelings instead of giving in to them.

It pulled at Sif’s heartstrings, and made her question Odin’s choice to incarcerate Loki. No, that was a dangerous path to tread. It was easy to call into question choices made in the past when future knowledge cast them in a different light, but that didn’t make Odin’s decision wrong. Loki had absolutely deserved to be locked in here. He had been a danger to Asgard and to Midgard, and rotting in a cell had been a fitting punishment.

But perhaps, just maybe, the dungeon had served its purpose and Loki was on his way to being rehabilitated. 

When Fandral finally shared Sif’s feelings with Loki, Sif silently promised to never return. Assuming Loki heard Fandral, assuming he believed, assuming he cared, meant he had far too much power over her, and she wasn’t keen on letting him exert that power. 

What she didn’t anticipate was Ullr’s full-frontal attack.

About a week after Fandral made his untimely announcement, Sif sat down to a private breakfast with her son. With one hand, Ullr was furiously scribbling something on the white parchment he acquired from Jane, while the other stuffed food into his mouth. His manners were lacking; perhaps it was time to start deportment lessons with Frigga. “Mother, did you know Father single-handedly battled three trolls in order to save one of Asgard’s outlying villages?”

Sif’s hand froze on the way to her mouth. “I did know,” she said slowly, setting her bread back on her plate. She had been in that village, laid up in bed with a broken leg and several broken ribs, unable to assist. “How did you hear of that?”

“School report,” he said, waving it in her face briefly as he shoved his last bit of bread and cheese in his mouth, then ran out the door for his daily lessons with his tutors. 

Every morning after that, he had another tale of Loki’s bravery.

“It says here that Father and Uncle Thor stopped a meteor from crushing Midgard. Thor got all the glory and a day of the week named after him. Father, humble as always, did not complain and graciously gave Thor all the credit.”

Loki? Humble? Was Ullr certain he knew the man? Besides, as Sif recalled, Loki complained bitterly for months afterwards about how his spells had done most of the damage, but because _Mjolnir_ landed the final blow, Thor was credited with the success. 

“Did you know that Father once donated his entire year’s allowance to orphans on Vanir?”

That had been done to spite Hogun, but the children were so grateful that Loki’s well-concealed soft heart made an appearance, and he donated regularly to their orphanage for the remainder of his free years. That had been the first time Sif entertained thoughts of letting Loki father her children. 

“Do I have a horse brother?”

“What?”

“This book says Father fathered,” and here he giggled at his word choice, “a horse named Sleipnir.”

Sif picked up the text and shook her head. “This one is Midgardian. I would not heed their words. Their ancients had a very unique sense of humour.”

Ullr looked so disappointed, Sif rolled her eyes. “I’m sure if you ask Loki about it, he’ll spin a fantastic tale that results in the birth of your horse brother.”

Ullr perked right up. “So I can visit Father then?” he asked eagerly, and Sif gave him a disapproving look.

“Do not pretend to me that you aren’t already visiting him.”

“Who, me?” Ullr asked, aghast. “Against _your_ wishes? _Never_.”

When had her child become so sarcastic? That was definitely Loki’s influence. 

For the next two years, Sif heard daily recountings of Loki’s best moments, from villages rescued to kingdoms restored by his hand. She was surprised by how many tales there were, and more surprised by how many she remembered being present for. Loki had not always been a creature of anger, but once a man of nobility. How tragic it was that he had been judged for his worst moments, without his best taken into consideration. 

That was when she realized what Ullr was getting at. “Stop,” she commanded him the next morning.

“Stop what, Mother?” he asked. “My school work? Very well, I accept. I shall fire all my tutors post haste.”

“Stop trying to elicit sympathy from me. Your father made his own choices, and now he’s suffering the consequences.”

“Sympathy? For Father?” Ullr said, his voice full of wonder. He was definitely spending too much time with Loki. “Do you think such a thing is possible?”

“Stop.”

He did, and did not share another story about Loki over breakfast. However, he was still running his mouth somewhere, for whispers and rumors of Loki’s once great deeds starting circulating around court, always out of earshot of the Allfather and Thor, but many within earshot of Sif and the Three. 

What game were those two playing?

It took a week before Ullr found something new to report on, and Sif did not think it was an improvement. “Mother, did you know the Allfather brought peace to all the Nine Realms?”

“Yes,” Sif said, thinking it was about time her son found something useful to say.

“Did you know he did it by invading Realms, obliterating worlds, and laying waste to foreign kingdoms?”

She should have known better than to think his words benign. He started bringing dusty tomes to the table, pilfered from the library, and read passages to her about the havoc wreaked by Odin across the Nine Realms. He would often stop mid-sentence to take careful notes about this encounter or that battle. If Sif complained, he would tell her he’d love to grow up stupid if that was her preference, but he’d really rather not, thank you very much. 

This went on for years. 

There were still constant whispers of Loki’s glory days, and as the years progressed, small stories of Odin’s former brutality started entering the discourse, reminders that he hadn’t always been the great Allfather they all revered. 

Hogun was the first to broach the subject with Sif. “Do you talk to your son?” he asked her over a mug of ale. 

“Yes,” she said. “Constantly. He listens about as well as his father.”

“Who is his father?” Hogun asked carefully, reminding Sif that Ullr’s parentage was still not common knowledge. 

“Think of your favourite insufferable prat, and you’ll have your answer.”

Hogun took a long swig, wiping his upper lip before responding. “I have had suspicions for some time now. It is good to have them confirmed. Tell me, Sif, is Ullr aiming to anger the Allfather? If he is not careful, he might bring permanent repercussions upon himself.”

“I do worry about him,” she admitted, “but so long as all he does is talk, he will not suffer his father’s fate. Frigga would never allow it.” On that point, she was confident. Sif had yet to publicly announce who Ullr’s father was, but from the moment of his birth, the Allmother seemed to know anyway, and she doted on the boy. “Is it known who is spreading these rumors?”

“Ullr’s name is not attached to most stories, but a careful inquiry leads straight to him.”

Sif sighed. “I will speak with him.” 

Hogun set his hand on her shoulder. “If you need any help, I am at your service,” he said firmly. “We all are.”

“I don’t know if the force of the throne is enough to combat Ullr and Loki,” she muttered. Hogun shared with her one of his rare smiles. 

Leaving the tavern, Sif bypassed her home and went straight to the dungeons. She hadn’t been back since Fandral’s proclamation, but the way was as familiar as ever, as was Loki. He had cut his hair back to his shoulders, but was otherwise unchanged. She ignored the steady thumping of her heart. “Please advise our son to cease his smear campaign lest he come to permanently regret it.”

Loki paused in the writing he was doing to look at her with an easy smile. “Sif,” he said, his voice increasing the thumping of her heart. “It’s good to see you, too.”

A blush raced across her cheeks; Sif prayed she stood in enough shadow that he could not see it. “Please do as I ask.”

“Certainly, but I must ask: what smear campaign?”

“He is spreading tales of Odin’s checkered past, interspersed with tales of your own most virtuous deeds.”

Loki laughed, not the bitter laugh she had come to associate with him, but a sound of joy that she had not heard in so long it brought tears to her eyes. “That little weasel,” Loki said fondly. “I knew he was up to something, but could not ferret out what. Clever boy.”

“Clever boy?” Sif demanded. “Loki, he will bring Odin’s attention on him and no good can come of that!”

“Trust our son, Sif. He can handle himself.”

_Our son_. She had said it first, but it sounded so good coming from Loki’s lips. Ullr _should_ have been their son, in practice as well as in blood, had Loki not landed himself here. “What are you two planning?” she asked.

“All in good time, Sif. All in good time.”

Hearing her name escape from his as a caress was too much, and Sif whirled about and left. 

Ullr was quiet that night as they readied for bed. “What is on your mind, my son?” she asked. 

Ullr bit his lip as he looked up at her. He had started growing in the last year. He had not yet caught up to his peers, but if he kept growing at this rate, it would not be long before he could look Sif in the eyes. Profound longing for his years as a baby sat heavy on her heart. “I want your help with something,” Ullr said at last, “but I’m afraid to ask because I don’t think you’re ready to say yes.”

“Then don’t ask,” Sif cautioned. “Wait until you think I am ready.”

“What if you never are?”

She had no answer.

Two weeks later Ullr approached her full speed and knocked her to the ground in a large hug. “What is this about?” Sif asked, carding her hand through his hair. 

“Because I love you,” he said fondly. “And because you worry about me. I’m not running a smear campaign, Mother; I’m just reminding people of a history they’ve forgotten. I happen to like Grandfather, even if he doesn’t know who I am.”

“What good can this accomplish, Ullr?”

“Hopefully a lot.” He looked about to say something else, then shook his head. “Not yet.” Standing, he helped pull Sif to her feet. When did he get big enough to do that? “Come with me to the sparring yards and let me show off what Thor’s been teaching me!”

At last, an activity Sif approved of. Ullr performed admirably, but this was Sif’s life. She bested him in all seven matches, which did not seem to bother him. That was definitely his father; most other Asgardian males would be offended to lose to a woman. Pulling him close, Sif kissed his sweaty forehead. Perhaps Loki was right. She should trust her son.

“Tell me about your father,” she said, and Ullr’s eyes lit up. 

“Truly?” he demanded, and she was reminded that however much he was growing up, he was young yet and still craved the approval of his parents. 

“Truly,” she said, and listened to him ramble on all the way back to their quarters. 

After that, Sif started listening carefully to the rumors circulating around court. Tales of Loki’s valour were in the minority now, ousted by reminders of some of Odin’s more heinous deeds. Trickling in the background were accounts of Odin’s deeds in more recent years, tales of peace and words of wisdom. As the weeks went by, these accounts grew in number, until they outnumbered Odin’s misdeeds and Loki’s good deeds. 

Sif had more than an inkling of what Ullr was trying to accomplish, but she waited for him to approach her again, which he did on Midwinter’s Eve, just before they were to join the revelry in the Great Hall. 

“Mother,” Ullr started.

“Yes,” she interrupted firmly.

“Yes?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

“Yes,” she said again. 

He grinned. “I should ask for something expensive and ridiculous that you don’t want me to have, but I’ve suddenly forgotten everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Just as well, for you do not need more things.”

“Don’t I? Aunt Jane is always saying preoccupation with possessions is precisely what perfects us as people.”

Sif lightly cuffed him upside the head. “That is the exact opposite of what Jane says.”

He grinned again. “Guess I have to up my listening game.”

“Your Midgardian speech patterns annoy the more enlightened of us, my love.”

“Grandmother Frigga thinks they’re quaint, and she’s the picture of poise.”

“Come; we will be late for the festivities.”

Ullr grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. “Mother, wait. What I really want is for you to visit Father. I think it would mean a lot if he heard you agree to help us.”

And so Sif sent Ullr to the party while she went alone to the dungeon. There was no merrymaking down there and little noise, a dismal place. How had Loki, who was once so full of life, survived such a dreary environment with his soul still in tact? But perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps his soul had been so battered already that there was nothing left for prison to do but patch it up. 

The thought weighed heavily on her mind.

Loki was stretching in his cell, performing the warmup routine they had learned as children to help prepare for battle. He would never be as muscled as Thor, but his trim fitness was its own sort of beauty. Sif took a moment to watch him and appreciate his form, remembering times past when she had appreciated his form in a much more intimate manner. 

Shaking her head, she approached his cell. He caught sight of her quickly and ceased his stretches, moving toward the barrier. “I did not expect to see you here,” he said, pulling his hair out of his face.

“Ullr sent me.”

Loki looked mildly surprised. “He said he would, but I doubted him.”

“Perhaps you should trust him.” Loki smiled lightly as she handed his words back to him. 

“Tell me, Sif, dear. What do you expect to find here?”

She shrugged, looking around his cell, still neat and orderly as all of Loki’s personal spaces were. “You tell me.”

Loki stood quietly a moment, evaluating her. She must have measured up, for at last he said, “We are attempting to use precedent and Odin’s past as a brutal tyrant to get me out of here on parole.”

“Which involves Ullr telling tales about court?”

Loki shook his head, his smile fond. “That was his idea, and one he did not share with me. I merely planned on putting in an appeal and then pleading my case. Having had little use for people in the past, it did not occur to me to acquire the good will of greater Asgard. Ullr has more foresight than I, it turns out, and has been working tirelessly in my favor these past years.”

“You are hoping for their support?”

“A cessation of animosity. Even I am not so arrogant as to think Asgard loves me.”

But I do, Sif thought. Perhaps it was time to put that fact to good use.

“I will help,” she announced, but Loki shook his head.

“I am not confident this will be a success, so I don’t think throwing your lot in with the unfavored, incarcerated Realm-betrayer is the wisest course of action.”

“Yet it is my course of action to choose,” she said. “I did not stand beside you all those years ago, and while I do not regret that choice, I think perhaps I ought to reverse it now.”

They shared a deep look, and years of hurt, pain, betrayal, and loss melted away. Sif felt lighter than she had in decades, and for once, had a hope for the future to rival Ullr’s. 

Loki turned away first, picking up a small stack of Jane’s Midgardian paper that was folded in half and placing it in the food tray retrieval bin. Once his side was closed, her side opened automatically. “What’s this?” she asked, picking it up.

“An apology. Read it at your leisure.”

“Loki,” Sif said. “I don’t need--”

“I needed to write it,” he interrupted. “Burn it for all I care. It’s yours to do with as you wish. Just don’t give it back.” 

Having nowhere else to put it, Sif tucked the papers in her bodice. Loki watched, a familiar gleam in his eye. It was time to leave. “I must attend the Midwinter festival. Ullr is waiting for me.”

Loki nodded, then softly said, “You look beautiful, Sif.”

Emotion pressed tight against her chest. Sif left before she could do something unwise and tell Loki how she felt. 

*

The next several months saw Sif searching out rumours so she could join the public discourse. When the stories were of Loki, she added details and reminisced about the younger prince’s glory days. When the tales were of Odin, she remarked upon how much the Allfather had changed, and how blessed they were to know him now. 

When Hogun was in court, he watched her silently, worry lining his brow. Fandral joined her in sharing Loki’s exploits, but declined to comment on the Allfather. Volstagg listened to it all with a knowing smile, but kept his peace. Sif considered more than once approaching Thor and testing the waters, but she did not want to force him into choosing a side (mostly because she did not want to find out he did not share her views on his brother. She wasn’t ready for disappointment.)

She also began making weekly sojourns to Loki’s cell with Ullr. Family time, Ullr called it, and he wasn’t wrong. Her emotions roiled below the surface, though her outward demeanor remained cool and calm. She wanted to know what Loki was like now, but wasn’t quite brave enough to face him alone in case their efforts proved unfruitful. To share quiet moments with him… That was too much for an uncertain future.

His apology remained unread. She did not need fancy phrases or platitudes to know he was no longer the angry soul he had been. His actions toward Ullr alone proved that, and knowing he was willing to apologize was enough for her. Let the past remain in the past, where it belonged.

At last the day came when Loki’s appeal was to be heard before Odin Allfather, Frigga Allmother, and Thor, the Crown Prince. It seemed as if the whole of Asgard was pressed into Gladsheim for the proceedings. Everyone was interested in Loki’s fate, and Ullr could not stop talking about it. Fully half the people he had spoken to believed the fallen prince’s imprisonment had atoned for his sins, and the other half did not seem to care. Loki’s crimes, though many, were mostly against Midgardians, and who really cared what they thought? 

(Jane heartily disproved of this way of thinking, which bothered few people. What was to be expected? She was only Midgardian. Jane railed against that line of thought for a whole afternoon while strolling through the gardens with Sif. Sif agreed with Jane, but knew Loki agreed with the rest of Asgard. He had little use for mortals.)

The hearing started at noon. Odin Allfather sat upon his throne, cold and regal, his face betraying no emotion. Next to him, Frigga was a contrast as she smiled upon the gathering, her smile warm. Thor looked uncertain, like he wanted to feel one thing but felt he oughtn’t. Jane stood next to him, scowling at the crowd. Mortals did not soon forgive their enemies, and she was not in favor of Loki, citing the hundreds of individuals dead in his attack on New York City. 

Sif stood on the steps below the royal family, with Ullr beside her, who was shifting nervously. Across from them were the Warriors Three. They usually did not attend court hearings, but with the increased interest in Loki’s case, Odin wanted more, and showy, protection. The Einherjar could do the job, but Sif and the Three sent a message. Her presence was also a message of personal support for Loki, but she could not look at him lest her eyes betray her. 

Ullr felt no such compunction, and could not stop staring at his father. It did not say much for the populace that they had not yet figured out who Ullr’s father was. Ullr was too obvious by half, and looked more and more like Loki with each day that passed. How the entirety of Asgard hadn’t figured it out was beyond Sif.

Odin raised his hand for silence, then called upon Loki to speak. Loki started with a deep, respectful bow. Sif had worked with him on it for weeks, as his natural inclination was to be mocking with every movement. More than once she’d wished she could throw something at his head, prevented from doing so only by the barrier. 

Loki spoke at length about Odin’s early years and the figure he cut that in no way resembled the Allfather standing before them today. He did not condemn, merely explained, then seamlessly transitioned into an explanation of his own behavior, reciting incident after incident when he had acted for the good of Asgard. Heads all throughout the congregation nodded along, Sif was pleased to see. As Loki's story progressed, he did not downplay his poor choices, describing them in exacting detail, then uttered a beautiful and heartfelt apology for his actions. 

He made his closing argument: “Had we judged young Odin with the harshness placed upon me, we would never have made it to the prosperous Asgard we all enjoy now. People change, and after years of imprisonment, I count myself amongst those that do. I have reflected upon my past actions, and deeply regret the choices I made. I am not asking to be forgiven my sins, but to be given a chance to make them right. I ask for parole, that I may continue to atone by serving the people of Asgard, and perhaps, if it be permissible, bring honour to the house of Odin once more.”

Murmurs broke out as the people considered Loki’s words. Ullr thrust out his chest with pride, a feeling Sif shared. Loki had done well.

After a brief consultation with Frigga, Odin called for silence once again. “Your words do you a credit, my son,” Odin said, and Loki straightened ever so slightly at being claimed by the Allfather, “but we have learned over the long centuries of your life that your words mean little.” Loki wilted equally slightly, no doubt hurt by Odin’s proclamation, but Sif thought it well said. Loki had certainly made a name for himself by twisting the truth. There was a reason he was called Silvertongue. “What guarantee have we that you mean what you say?”

Frigga spoke up. “Is there one who would stand for you?”

Before Sif or Ullr could offer themselves up, Thor stepped forward. “I will stand for Loki, son of Odin.” Odin’s eyes widened, clearly surprised, but before he could say anything, Fandral stepped forward.

“I, too, will stand for Loki, son of Odin.”

“As will I,” Ullr said bravely, also stepping forward.

Over Ullr’s head, Sif could see Loki, his head bowed with emotion. Sif’s own eyes held unshed tears; her beloved was not alone, and he finally seemed to understand that. 

Sif stepped forward, fist over her heart. “I stand by Loki.”

It was a subtle difference, but Odin immediately caught her meaning, his eyes flickering from her to Loki to Ullr. He seemed surprised, but pleased. Sif smiled. “Very well,” Odin said. “From this day forward, Loki, my son, you are paroled into the care of the Lady Sif, to be assisted by Lord Fandral, master Ullr, and the Crown Prince. You are to obey Sif’s orders as if they were mine own, as she directs your public service to continue atoning for the harm you have caused. If she is ever absent, you are to report to Fandral or Thor, as determined by them. And, most important of all, you are to teach your son what it means to be an honourable man.” Here Sif had to press her lips together to hold back her emotions, and noticed Loki doing much the same. “You are forbidden to leave the Realm for a period of one hundred years, at which point we will reconvene to reassess your sentence. This marks the end of the hearing.”

The crowd burst into speaking. Sif paid little attention to the noise beyond ascertaining it was generally positive, and moved toward Loki as his Einherjar guards removed his bindings. She was the first to reach him, and wasted no time in pulling him in for a kiss. That shocked the court into silence, but only for a moment, and then there was a flurry of new noise as they discussed this shocking revelation.

Ullr, heedless of the onlookers, barrelled into Sif and Loki and interrupting their kiss as he wrapped his arms around them both. “Best day ever,” he said contentedly.

"Is it?" Loki asked, looking at Sif.

She remembered her early years, when her sword held more value than any individual. It would be easy to return to that mindset, and return Sif's life to an easy and predictable path. It would also be lonely, and besides, Sif had never been one for easy. Standing here, surrounded by the people she loved, being held by the two men she loved most, she knew she wouldn't have life any other way. 

There were still be adventures to be had, Loki was not quite so rehabilitated as he portrayed himself to be, and Ullr was far from done being parented, but today, in this moment, everything was exactly as it should be. "It is," she said, and quietly surrendered as Loki kissed her again. 


End file.
